Of Bookshops And Melted Hearts
by Lollipop456
Summary: When Wendy Cunningham enters the shop one day, and finds a drunken Bernard. Neither one knows that's it's the beginning of a friendship and perhaps the only chance Bernard has to be the man that he wants to be. Features some OOC, and a possible Mary-Sue.
1. Chapter 1

Her name was Wendy. Wendy Cunningham. She was told as a child that she was named after the character of "Wendy Darling" from J.M Barrie's play "Peter Pan." Her parents never did tell her why she was named after her, but through her grandmother she learned it was because she was concieved on the night that her parents saw the play. Now at the age of thirty, both of Wendy's parents were dead and Wendy was now living in a poorly-kept flat in London. Although she had resided in London most of her life, she never crossed by the area named Bloomsbury. It's not that she wanted to go there, she just never had the chance. Her job often kept her busy. As Wendy continued to stroll the streets of Bloomsbury, she passed by a small shop named "Black Books." Wendy, having an admiration for any type of literature, stepped inside of the shop. As she began wondering up and down the aisles in search of some decent books, she could see a man passed out at his desk. Fearing that perhaps he was hurt or worse, Wendy approached the man and shook his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir?" said Wendy, shaking the man gently.

The man suddenly popped up, apparently startled by Wendy's presence. Upon smelling his breath, Wendy knew exactly why the man was passed out.

"A bit too much, eh?" chuckled Wendy.

"I am not drunk." said the man.

"Oh, then I suppose you wash your teeth with beer then?" asked Wendy sarcastically.

"We're closed. Go away." said the man, his speech beginning to slur.

"I can't leave you like this. You're as drunk as a sailor, and you probably can't even stand." said Wendy.

The man, determined to prove Wendy wrong, stood to his feet but only collasped forward. Wendy caught him and sat him back in the chair. She knelt in front of the man and held up ten fingers.

"How many fingers do you see?" asked Wendy.

The man seemed disoriented and seemed to try to focus on Wendy's breasts rather than her hands.

"Are those real?" asked the man.

Wendy rolled her eyes and slapped the man across the face. This defintely seemed to get the man's attention.

"What was that for?" asked the man, rubbing his cheek.

"Hangover or not, I don't like being spoken to like some kind of cheap whore." said Wendy.

"Well, I have a rather strong dislike for people, but here you stand." said the man.

"Who are you anyway? An alcoholic Scrooge?"

"My name is Black. Bernard Black." said the man.

"Black? You own this store?" asked Wendy, her eyebrows raised with surprise.

"Why are you surprised?" asked Bernard.

"It's only that booksellers seemed to be a bit more social. Friendly." said Wendy, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, clowns are suppose to be funny, but they aren't. They're damn frightening." said Bernard.

Bernard suddenly began to dig through his pockets, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. It seemed because of his current state that Bernard was having troubles lighting his cigarette. Wendy smiled and lit the cigarette for him.

"Ever had a smoke?" asked Bernard.

"Once. When I was thirteen." said Wendy, she stood to her feet.

Wendy began wondering through the shop again, scanning through at least several of the books. Bernard, finally able to stand, walked up to Wendy and rested against a nearby shelf.

"Do you like books?" asked Bernard.

Wendy closed the book she was holding and looked up at Bernard, and couldn't help but smile at his terrible ice-breaker.

"I guess you could say that. My Mum was a teacher, and my Dad was a professor. They use to give me all sorts of books to read. Mostly Dickens and Austen." said Wendy.

"So if classics are your thing, then why are you shopping for books in a second-rate store?" asked Bernard, folding his arms.

"Perhaps because I simply love books and the company that I'm in." said Wendy.

Bernard seemed surprised, nobody had ever enjoyed being around him, not even his co-worker Manny. Wendy saw a book on a top shelf that appealed to her, and she reached for it, only to find that she was too short. Bernard took the book off of the shelf and handed it to Wendy.

"Thank you." said Wendy.

Wendy held her two books in one arm and took out her purse, but Bernard shook his head.

"They're free." said Bernard.

Wendy nodded and left the shop. At that moment, a much older man entered the shop, and seemed interested when he saw Wendy leaving.

"We had a customer?" asked the older man.

"Yeah Manny, we did." said Bernard.

"So, what's our profit?" asked Manny.

"Nothing. I gave them to her for free."

"Free? Just how much did you drink last night?"

Bernard shrugged. "Only half a bottle of whisky." he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Wendy returned to her flat, and removed her coat and shoes. She laid her handbag down on a nearby chair.

"Is anyone home?" shouted Wendy.

Wendy's flat-mate and best friend, Susan Richards, came to greet Wendy. She only had her shirt and underwear on, her hair was tangled in knots.

"Did I come at a bad time?" asked Wendy.

"Not at all. I've just been sleeping. That's all." said Susan, shrugging her shoulders.

"Darling, are you coming back to bed?" said a voice, it was defintely a male's voice.

"Oh, we have company, eh?"

"I met him yesterday. His name is Jim. You don't have to worry, he was leaving soon." said Susan.

"No, I wasn't!" shouted Jim, obviously overhearing the conversation.

"It's all right. He can stay. I'm going to cotch on the sofa for awhile. Read these new books that I got." said Wendy.

"Books? Don't remember seeing a shop in Bloomsbury that sells books." said Susan, removing a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

"I'm not surprised. The shop looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months, and the owner was completely plastered. He couldn't even stand without my help. I'm glad that I left when I did."

"Was he dishy?" asked Susan.

"Was who dishy?" shouted Jim.

"Go back to sleep, Jim." shouted Susan, she turned her attention back to Wendy. "Was he?"

"A little. I wasn't really looking at him. I was looking at the books."

"Did you learn his name?" asked Susan.

"His name is Bernard. Bernard Black."

"God, the man's name is a novel!"

"Probably a tragedy. I've never seen someone so wasted."

"Ask him." said Susan, her tone sounded simple.

"You want me to ask a complete stranger why he drinks?"

"It wouldn't hurt. Besides, you haven't been on the scene for two months now."

"Oh, now I see. You're playing Matchmaker."

"Ken is gone, he's probably off shagging another girl. Where are you? In your flat and reading books. This Bernard might be good a start."

"Fine. I'll talk to Bernard, but I will not ask him for a date. It's bad enough that Ken left me for another woman, I don't want a Scrooge to be my rebound."

The next day, Wendy returned to Black Books. For some reason, Bernard wasn't at his desk. The store seemed pretty desserted. As she turned to leave...

"I'm here." said a very familiar voice.

Wendy turned and saw Bernard in a room in the back, a bottle of whisky in his hand. Wendy rolled her eyes and went to the back room.

"What are you doing?" asked Wendy.

"I'm cleaning. It's not as easy as it looks. These boxes are heavy, it's a wonder I haven't broken my arm."

Wendy could see the problem. Bernard was attempting to lift boxes with only one hand, while holding his bottle of whisky in the other. Wendy sighed and took the bottle away from Bernard. It surprised him, to say the least.

"You can't have this while lifting boxes. It's not good for you." said Wendy, laying the bottle down on a nearby table.

Wendy took one of the boxes, in both hands, and placed it on the top shelf.

"Besides, it's alot easier when you have _both _hands." noted Wendy.

With Wendy's help, Bernard began to lift and place all of the boxes. Suddenly, one of the boxes slipped off the shelf and fell ontop of Wendy's head. Thankfully, none of the books were hardcover, so she wasn't rendered unconcious. Still, Wendy was able to feel a small bump on the top of her head.

"Are you all right?" asked Bernard.

Wendy was taken aback when Bernard asked the question. She nodded, as she was unable to speak from the shock.

"Sit down." said Bernard, leading Wendy to a nearby chair. "I'll find some ice."

Bernard rummaged around and then, amongst all the clutter, was able to retrieve an ice pack. Even if it was a bit warm, from not being in a cold enviroment in over a week. Bernard pressed the ice pack against the bruise on top of Wendy's head.

"Thanks." said Wendy, a small smile curved on the right side of her mouth.

"Why are you here? People only come once." said Bernard.

"I came to see you."

"Me?"

"Yes. I wanted to thank you for the discount."

"They weren't favorites. I just wanted to get rid of them."

"Just like you want to get rid of customers." muttered Wendy.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Anyway Bernard, I was here as a favor to a friend and she wanted to know wh..."

Wendy paused, she looked into Bernard's eyes. They weren't those of an acholoic, just a man. A lonely man. She couldn't possibly asked him about his drinking. Too personal. So, she asked the only thing she could think of.

"She wanted to know when you're avaible. She thinks me and you should go out supper. If you want to, I mean."

"You're asking me out to dinner?" asked Bernard.

"Yes."

Bernard had been out to dinner with women before. Usually, it was him who would ask. As most women feared to even touch him, let alone come and talk to him. Now, here was a beautiful woman, asking him out to dinner. Someone actually wanted to go out with him. To talk to him. To actually sit and eat with him. Of course, Bernard didn't want to show his excitement.

"I guess I could." said Bernard, shrugging his shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3

Wendy returned to her flat, only to find Susan on the sofa and kissing a young man. Wendy straightened her throat, and the two stopped kissing.

"Oh, hey Wend! I didn't you hear you come in." said Susan.

"I didn't hear you shagging from behind the door." said Wendy.

Wendy went to the kitchen, while Susan shooed the young man out of the flat. She then got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen.

"Was that Jim?" asked Wendy.

"Who?"

Wendy sighed. "Never mind." she rubbed the top of her head.

"What happened to your head?"

"I went to see Black, and I was helping him move books into storage. One of them fell and this happened."

"So, does this mean that you asked him about his drinking?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

Wendy took out a carton of orange juice and poured herself a glass. "I asked him out to dinner."

"Hold the phone! You did exactly what I thought you should do, but you didn't want to do what I thought you should've done, but you went on and did what I didn't think you were going to do, since you said you weren't going to do what I thought you should've done in the first place?"

Wendy blinked a few times; a bit flabbergasted by all Susan had said. She finally was able to nod, and Susan hugged her.

"This is brilliant! Come on, let's get you dressed!"

Susan took Wendy's hand and lead her to her room, and sat her down on the bed.

"Maybe I should just wear my own clothes, Sue." said Wendy.

"And scare him off? What good can come of that?"

"I know that you mean well, but-"

Susan rolled her eyes and joined Wendy on the bed, she turned her to face her so that their eyes were meeting.

"Wendy, look at me. I never did want to tell you this after Ken was caught with that slag, but he did tell me the reason why he decided to sleep with someone else."

"Why?"

"Because he was impotent."

"That doesn't make sense, if he was impotent, then why did he sh-"

"You don't get it, do you? He was only impotent around you."

"Around me?"

"He told me that you weren't sexy enough to warrant a shagging."

"I'm not sexy?"

"It is just one man's view. Still, one view can be enough to spark a change. Now, first let's find you a shirt."

Susan stood and began to rummage through her closet again, Wendy stood and joined her in the rummaging.

"I still don't understand what clothes have to do with sex appeal."

"Shag 'em or shun 'em."

"What?"

"The clothes have to be perfect, or else you won't even get close to a shagging."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, just go sit on the bed and let me work."

Wendy returned to the bed and waited impatiently for Susan to find her some clothes to wear on the date. She soon found a pink turtleneck, and an extremely short black skirt.

"Susan, I can't wear that. It's not me, it's...it's..."

"It's perfect."

Susan tossed the skirt and turtleneck over to Wendy, who left the room to change her clothes. She returned sometime later, wearing the clothes that Susan gave her.

"You look beautiful!" squealed Susan.

"I look like a slag is what I look like."

"Now don't be hard on yourself, you look fabulous. We've got to work on your hair."

After two hours of being prepared by Susan; Wendy looked more a whore than she did before. She knew it would be wrong to show up at Black Books looking the way that she did. Still, she felt that Susan may be right and that Bernard would ignore her if she did decide to change.

So, after some hesitation, Wendy got into her car and drove down to Black Books. She was surprised when the older gentleman from before was there to greet her instead of Bernard.

"Hi, my name is Wendy Cunningham. I'm looking for Bernard, is he around?"

"Could you hold on for a second?"

Suddenly, he slammed the door in Wendy's face, just as Bernard was coming out of the rest room; completely dressed and ready for his date with Wendy.

"Was someone at the door?" asked Bernard.

"Of course someone was at the door! It was the slag that you call a date!"

"Manny, what are you talking about?"

Bernard opened the door and saw Wendy in her new cheap-like makeover, and then quickly slammed it in her face.

"You told me she was a clean little slip who works for retail."

"She was...Or is..."

"That's not exactly a schoolgirl standing outside."

"There has to be explanation."

"An explanation for dressing like a whore?"

Bernard hushed Manny and then opened the door where Wendy still stood outside, her arms folded in an impatient manner.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Bernard.

"Yes, of course."

Wendy looked at Manny, her eyebrows slightly arched.

"Oh right, this is Manny. He works for me."

"And you apparently work for every bloody male on a streetcorner."said Manny, who was elbowed by Bernard in the ribs.

"He's always making those sort of jokes." Bernard chuckled nervously.

Wendy extended her hand and Manny shook it. "It's wonderful to meet you, Manny."

"Well, I'm sure I'm not the first Manny you've met-"

"Let's go!" chimed Bernard.

Wendy and Bernard left the store together, both hoping that the date would go smoothly. At least, more smoothly than the incident a few moments ago.


	4. Chapter 4

Like most women, Wendy was expecting Bernard to take her to a cinema where they could see a romantic flick, or possibly to an elegant restaurant to get a bite-to-eat. Instead, she was taken aback when they arrived at a pub. Bernard, noting Wendy's look of dissapointment, let out a small sigh.

"We can go somewhere else if you like." said Bernard.

"Oh no, this is fine." said Wendy, trying hard to not show the dissapointment in her voice.

Wendy and Bernard found a place at the counter and ordered two beers. Once the drinks were served, Bernard and Wendy were finding it extremely difficult to speak to one another; after awhile, it was Wendy who broke the silence.

"So, is something wrong with Manny?" asked Wendy.

"What do you mean?" asked Bernard.

"Well, he seemed sort of weird. Almost like he didn't trust me."

"He liked you, he just didn't like your clothes."

Bernard realized his error when he saw an upsetting look on Wendy's face.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" asked Wendy.

Bernard, knowing it was too late to redeem himself, decided to be on honest with Wendy.

"Well, they make you look like a slag, that's what's wrong with them." said Bernard.

"Thanks for being forward."

Wendy stood and left the pub, and Bernard followed her. At first, Wendy tried to open her door to Bernard's car, but found it was lock. So, she began to walk down the street; with Bernard hot on her trail.

"You can't walk to your flat!" shouted Bernard.

"Sod off!" shouted Wendy.

"It's not as if we're wrong, you are dressed a bit different than usual!"

"Maybe I like to dress this way!"

"Then why didn't you dress that way before?"

"It was too cold to wear anything short!"

"We're in the middle of August, Wendy! It's not like we have snow everywhere!"

Wendy finally stopped and turned to Bernard, with her arms folded. "You want to know why I wore this? Because my flatmate told me to."

"Why did you agree to it?" asked Bernard.

"Because I thought it was the only way to get your attention."

"You had already done that."

"Really?"

"Why else would I set foot in public?"

"I'm sorry for walking out. Can we start over?"

Bernard stared at Wendy; he usually never accepted apologies, but couldn't help be drawn to Wendy's sincerity.

"Sure." said Bernard, extending his hand.

"Great..." Wendy took Bernard's hand and shook it. "That's just great."

"Come on, I know a place not far from here."

Bernard and Wendy hopped in the car and drove down to a small dock. They got out of the car and walked onto the docks.

"I've lived here all my life and didn't even know about this." said Wendy.

"Most people take their boats to Saint Katherine's. I've only seen one boat in the last ten years."

"Where is it?" asked Wendy.

Bernard pointed out a small, grungy-looking sailboat to Wendy. They both walked onto the boat and into its cabin.

"Are you sure we should be here?" asked Wendy.

"It's the 21st century, I highly doubt we'll be flogged." said Bernard.

"What if the Captain comes back?"

"Trust me, he's completely plastered and laying on the floor with some slag."

"You know him?"

"No, I know sailors. I use to work at a dock in Dublin."

Wendy suddenly tripped over a loose plank and fell into Bernard's arms. The two locked eyes for several seconds, before they finally began to kiss.

The next morning, Wendy woke up and found she was laying on the floor of the boat and a naked Bernard was laying next to her. She slapped her forehead, and realized exactly what she and Bernard had done. She put on Bernard's shirt and then stepped onto the deck of the boat.

"Good morning." said a voice.

Wendy turned around and saw a shirtless Bernard; all she could do was give a faint smile. He approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Well, now I have proof." said Bernard.

"Of what?" asked Wendy.

"I don't need a drink to shag a Betty."

"Bernard, no jokes, please."

Wendy sat on a nearby stool and Bernard sat next to her.

"You were stellar last night." said Bernard.

"That doesn't matter! We shouldn't have done it."

"Why not?"

"We were only suppose to go on the date, that's why."

"So, a slight change of plans, what's wrong with that?"

Wendy buried her face in her hands. "This is all my fault. I should've done what Susan told me to."

"What did she tell you?"

"She thought that I should ask you why you're always plastered. That's why I came back to the shop, and I was going to ask you, but when you took care of me...I just couldn't do it."

"So, you weren't there for a date...You were there for a sideshow."

"No, that's not it-"

"Everyone wants to come and look at Bernard: the hopeless drunk from Bloomsbury."

"Why are you making such a spectacle of this?"

"Because it's the truth. You wonder why I don't go out in public? Because of people like you! People who just like to look at the sad state I'm in."

"That's not true!"

"The hell it's not!"

"Bernard please, there is no reason to argue like this!"

"You're right."

Bernard left the boat and Wendy could only watch in a state of frustration and confusion.


End file.
